


In Shining Armor

by untilitbreaks



Category: ENHYPEN (Band), I-LAND (Korea TV), TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Debut ENHYPEN, Pre-Debut TOMORROW X TOGETHER, Pre-debut, Self-Acceptance, i honestly wrote this fic primarily to include hanbin’s name at least once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untilitbreaks/pseuds/untilitbreaks
Summary: Lee Heeseung meets Choi Yeonjun for the first time in the autumn of 2017, and in that moment his life changes forever.
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Park Sunghoon, Choi Yeonjun/Lee Heeseung, Lee Heeseung & Park Sunghoon, Lee Heeseung/Park Sunghoon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	In Shining Armor

**Author's Note:**

> so the playground episode happened, and then i got emotional about predebut heeseung and txt, and then i got emotional about enha becoming close pre-iland and during, and i wrote this. i’m immensely fond of this fic (i cried twice while working on it), so i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> to clarify the relationships - this is very much heeseung/yeonjun focused, and heeseung & sunghoon are close friends and confide in each other. they also have a Moment (this was originally a seungsung fic, but then this happened 😭). there’s a bit of sunghoon/soobin at the end, and since there aren’t many fics for them at the moment i tagged it!
> 
> before you read - heeseung does experience some internalized homophobia during this fic, but much of it is vague and it’s eventually resolved. it wasn’t enough to warrant a tag, but there’s also a brief comment made that isn’t exactly homophobic (more addressing a stereotype, but not in an explicitly unkind way) but does make heeseung and sunghoon uncomfortable. the scene is brief (starting with “he doesn’t remember which one of the trainees said it”), but i can sum it up or give more details in the comments, on my cc, or on twitter!
> 
> happy reading!

* * *

_This night where not a single starlight can be found_

_The paths we came from are all lonely and regretful_

_Press harder, with all your energy_

_So that no monsters can chase us anymore_

♙♙♙

Lee Heeseung meets Choi Yeonjun for the first time in the autumn of 2017, and in that moment his life changes forever.

The most unexpected thing about becoming a trainee is that they aren’t allowed to talk to each other much. They’re separated into groups based on age and ability, and Heeseung is one of the youngest trainees—and also one of the most talented.

He doesn’t have many friends.

The trainees are always shifting around, never in the same groups for long. Not long enough for Heeseung to feel less awkward around them to make friends. Some trainees come and go, and Heeseung spends sleepless nights fearing that he’ll be the next to pack his bags. It’s all he can do at one of his monthly evaluations to hold back tears. At the end of it, he’s told that he’ll be practicing with the most advanced trainees and the debut team.

He’s heard rumors, of course, of the lucky trainees who are honored with attending lessons with the five boys who are preparing to debut at an undetermined date. He can’t sleep that night, and his stomach aches from anxiety until the next day. He’s eating lunch alone in the corner of an abandoned practice room when a boy who introduces himself as Beomgyu finds him.

“We’re the same age,” he tells Heeseung. He sits down a few feet away from him and pops open the lid of a to-go bowl of bibimbap from the cafeteria. “I heard that you’re going to be training with us from now on. I’d like it if we could be friends.”

He’s direct, friendly, and comfortable to be around—everything Heeseung has been struggling to be recently. Despite the bags under his eyes, he glows in the way that people do when they know they have a bright future ahead of them.

Heeseung wants to be like him. He smiles, and it comes easily to him for the first time in a long while.

  
  
  


From a young age, Heeseung has had his heart set on becoming a singer.

He feels it deep in his soul, that this is what he’s meant to do. He feels it whenever his vocal instructor compliments him, whenever one of the other trainees asks him for tips on the choreography they’re working on, whenever songs lyrics come to him at inopportune times and he repeats them over and over to himself under his breath until he can write them down.

It’s going to happen one day. It’s his destiny. No matter the struggles he comes across, he _is_ going to debut.

It’s just that, though. Being a trainee is one long series of struggles that knocks Heeseung down over and over again.

Being a part of the upper-level training group makes things better, in some ways. The group is more tight-knit. Heeseung feels like he’s already proven himself, at least to some extent. He gets to spend more time doing specialized training that helps him learn at a dizzying pace. He finds that he’s insatiable—that it makes him want more and more and more, and he has to remind himself to be patient.

It’s even more difficult than his training before, though. He feels a bit like an imposter, among trainees that are mostly older than him, and there’s the threat that, if he stops improving, he might not be allowed to train with them anymore. Sometimes he gets frustrated by how difficult his lessons are, so he’s discouraged more often, the highs and lows of his life more dramatic and frequent and disorienting.

The one thing that consistently makes Heeseung’s trainee life more bearable is the debut team: Beomgyu and Soobin and Yeonjun and Taehyun and Kai.

Beomgyu introduces him to the other group members, and they take him under their wing immediately, showering Heeseung in more attention than he’d received during the rest of his training combined. Taehyun and Kai call him _hyung_ immediately. Beomgyu treats Heeseung like one of them even though he isn’t. Soobin and Yeonjun show Heeseung the ropes, and then continue to act as mentors to him even after, unlike any of the other trainees Heeseung has met so far.

Heeseung stops eating lunch by himself in empty practice rooms. He stops facing monthly evaluations alone. When he forgets his water bottle at home, there’s always an extra for him. When they have time off, Heeseung isn’t lonely when he goes to restaurants or to buy new clothes.

The debut team live in their own dorm, and they receive special training, and they have inside jokes that Heeseung doesn’t understand. He doesn’t ever forget that they aren’t living the same lives, not really, but for the first time in his trainee days, he has friends.

What’s most surprising is that Heeseung very quickly realizes that he’s drawn to Yeonjun the most.

Yeonjun is good at everything, like how the other trainees and Heeseung’s instructors made it seem like he was when he first started training. If Heeseung has natural talent, Yeonjun is on a whole other level. He’s a scarily good dancer, skillful at singing, and has a natural affinity for rapping. He’s everything a trainee on their way to debut should be.

He’s been training for years, too, and it means a lot to Heeseung that this proves that his hard work will pay off someday. But it scares him that it’s taken so long for Yeonjun to reach this point. And he hasn’t even debuted yet. Anything could happen before then.

Yeonjun handles the pressure so well Heeseung wouldn’t have ever realized how much strain is on him, if he didn’t bear witness to everything that goes on behind the scenes: how he’s a moodmaker even when his smiles are forced, how he stays late practicing and arrives earlier than he has to, how he always drinks his tea with honey, how he covers the bruises dotting his skin with long pants and sleeves, how he’s the pillar of the group he’s debuting with.

Between all of that, he somehow has time to be kind to Heeseung.

Between all of that, he somehow has time to smile at Heeseung in a way that makes his knees weak, he has time to be kind to the other trainees and praise them when they have a hard day, he makes time for the things that are important to him. And somehow, unbelievably, Heeseung is one of those things.

Heeseung has never been important to someone like this before.

  
  
  


Heeseung’s favorite activity isn’t his vocal lessons or dance practices. It’s his English lessons.

It feels a bit like cheating that Heeseung finds such relief in practicing a foreign language over the skills that he’s the most passionate about, but English, in a strange way, is something that he finds the most familiar.

Everything about his relationship with dance and singing changes when he becomes a trainee. The way he studies English, though, mostly remains the same.

Before he’d become a trainee, he’d spent extensive time studying English with a tutor after realizing his aptitude for it. In middle school, he hadn’t actively sought to become fluent at English. He’d just wanted to understand the pop songs he’d fallen in love with—and, naturally, teaching himself the language became a part of this.

When he becomes a trainee, he’s given frequent English tutoring with a teacher who specializes in preparing idols for the industry they’ll need it in, but Heeseung finds it grounding to study on his own time. When he loses his voice from pushing himself while singing or can’t seem to get choreo down right, he buys himself a new pack of flashcards and memorizes vocabulary and grammar until he’s too tired to think of anything negative.

Somehow, this ends up giving him an advantage over the other trainees, who don’t have as much experience as him, and Heeseung’s English lessons become the only times when he truly feels as though he can let his guard down, and not try so hard to best the other trainees.

While the trainees generally remain together for dance and vocal instruction, foreign language classes are ranked separately. When he’s moved up to the advanced group of trainees, Heeseung is a little sad, at first, that he won’t be in classes with his new friends. It’s okay, though. He feels confident in English, so it won’t be unbearable.

And then he’s moved to a new English class. He doesn’t think anything of it. He arrives right on time for his first session with his new tutor, and is completely shocked to find Yeonjun and Kai already there, waiting for him, both grinning.

It doesn’t surprise Heeseung as much to see Kai in a high level English class, the globetrotter he is. He’s more surprised to see Yeonjun, who, as he soon learns, isn’t even close to lacking skill at speaking, reading, and writing in English.

Yeonjun as a person is a bit overwhelming sometimes. Heeseung isn’t intimidated by him at all, though—if anything, Yeonjun motivates him, which is a relief from how Heeseung usually feels about the other trainees.

He compliments Heeseung’s English gratuitously, which never fails to make him flustered. “You know so much vocabulary, Heeseung-ah,” he says in awe. They’re writing diary entries, and Yeonjun leans close in Heeseung’s space to read his handwriting, and Heeseung’s breath stutters in his chest in a way that’s so wrong and so right.

Heeseung tells him how, and Yeonjun’s eyes light up. “That’s so cool!” he exclaims. “I’ve never thought to try that. Will you recommend me some songs to study with?”

Heeseung does send him a few songs, only two or three, because he doesn’t want to bother him. Yeonjun responds enthusiastically each time, though. And Heeseung never quite gets his heart rate under control when Yeonjun leans close.

  
  
  


Heeseung isn’t like the other boys.

He’s in middle school the first time someone points out that he spends more time studying English and vocal techniques than he does doing things _normal_ teenagers do.

Heeseung doesn’t understand. He plays sports. He does his homework. He _does_ spend a lot of time singing, and he likes to study English instead of math or science, but that doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with him.

“But don’t you have any crushes?” they ask, and Heeseung’s heart drops, although he doesn’t understand why. “Why aren’t you dating, Heeseung? You’re so handsome.”

 _Why aren’t you dating, Heeseung?_ rings in his head until he becomes a trainee and signs the paper that says _In order to focus on your career, you aren’t allowed to date._

He’s never been more relieved in his life.

  
  
  


He feels normal for the first time as a trainee.

More specifically, he feels normal for the first time with Yeonjun—when he sends Yeonjun songs to sing to, when Yeonjun buys him extra snacks even though they’re supposed to be dieting, when the debut team walks Heeseung home in the evenings on the way to their own dorm, and he rarely has to spend a second alone.

When Yeonjun finds Heeseung crying alone for the first time in a long time. When he sits beside Heeseung in silence and lets him cry until he’s ready to talk. When he takes Heeseung’s face in his hands and wipes his tears.

When Heeseung burns all over at his touch, when his breath hitches in his throat and he melts in Yeonjun’s hands and things feel _okay_ when they’re not supposed to, and he’s not thinking any more about how his effort might be for nothing and he’s _never_ going to be good enough.

“You’re not alone,” Yeonjun tells him, looking into his eyes seriously, and Heeseung must imagine it when Yeonjun licks his lips, and then glances at Heeseung’s and back up again. “You have me. You won’t ever be alone anymore.”

Heeseung wishes that this was true.

  
  
  


Yeonjun becomes busy.

It’s subtle, at first. The debut team members have always missed lessons every so often. But these days, they’re gone for most of the day, and usually only stay for vocal lessons.

They aren’t allowed to talk about the upcoming debut. Not when it’s going to happen, not what type of concept they’re taking on, not how many songs are going to be on the album, if it’s even an album at all. Heeseung knew that this day would come, though—the day when the debut team would no longer have time to work with the trainees, too busy preparing for the debut that is still impossibly far away for everyone else.

Heeseung isn’t as lonely as he used to be. Something is still missing, though, and he feels it acutely when Yeonjun isn’t around anymore.

Yeonjun made him feel whole. But the way he thinks of him is selfish, he knows. Soon enough, he’s going to belong to the whole world rather than just one doe-eyed trainee. Yeonjun has trained for so long, longer than Heeseung can even imagine. He understands why Yeonjun hasn’t given up yet, but he aches for him.

Yeonjun needs to debut. It’s his turn, even though it isn’t Heeseung’s yet. Imagining otherwise it’s what’s selfish.

Even more selfishly, Heeseung relates this to Yeonjun—he fears that he’ll be stuck training for years before Big Hit casts him aside for a younger, better trainee, perhaps one more like the trainees they’re currently debuting.

Yeonjun only shakes his head. “You want this more than anyone, Heeseung-ah. It won’t be long for you.”

Heeseung isn’t sure that he believes him. It’s probably easier for him to say this now that his debut is so near, and his future is within his grasp.

They’re lying together on the cold practice room floor, looking up at the ceiling as if it’s dotted with constellations instead of bright white lights. Heeseung turns to Yeonjun instead, and finds that he’s already looking at him.

He’s still the same Yeonjun that Heeseung has always known, even though he’s going to be a real K-pop idol soon. _Selfish._ Moments like these won’t matter soon, at least not to Yeonjun.

Heeseung looks back up at the ceiling. The days like this he gets to spend with Yeonjun are numbered. “Do you even have a name yet?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Yeonjun says. Heeseung can hear the smile in his voice.

He’s not supposed to tell Heeseung this. He’s just another trainee, it doesn’t matter if they’re friends or if Yeonjun thinks that he can trust him.

Their hands are lying close between them. When Yeonjun shifts, their pinkies brush together. “Of course.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Heeseung thinks that Yeonjun might be reconsidering whether or not he wants to break the rules, when soon enough he really, truly, won’t be able to make such a judgement call anymore.

“We’re TOMORROW X TOGETHER,” Yeonjun whispers. He says the name reverently, and it still sounds new on his lips, like he hasn’t said it many times before. “It means—”

He cuts himself off, like he’s said too much. Somehow, Heeseung still smiles, and he curls his pinky around Yeonjun’s and says, “I’ll hear all about it in interviews.”

  
  
  


Yeonjun debuts. Heeseung has new friends. He keeps training, with no end in sight.

♘♘♘

There’s that one night on the ship in Brunei, when Heeseung looks at his best friends, Jungwon and Jongseong, and feels it stirring within him again.

He’s just confused.

He deletes Yeonjun’s contact number.

  
  
  


_The program will last for three months, during which you won’t be able to return home…_

_If you aren’t chosen to debut, you’ll have the opportunity to reassess whether you would like to continue on your journey to becoming an idol or pursue a different path…_

_If you debut, you’ll become an artist under Belift Lab rather than Big Hit Entertainment. While the terms of artist management will remain the same…_

As winter turns to the spring of 2020, the best and brightest of Big Hit’s trainees are gathered in a conference room and given two options: participate in Mnet’s upcoming survival show to debut in a boy group under Big Hit’s joint venture with CJ E&M.

The room is silent for several minutes after the agent who had gathered them here finishes his speech. He’d introduced himself as a director of the future boy group to debut from the survival program, but Heeseung doesn’t remember his name now. There’s a packet of information in front of each of the trainees, labeled with the title _I-LAND_ and the logos of several companies underneath.

Heeseung is frozen. On either side of him, other trainees are flipping through the pages, but he can’t even bring himself to open the cover. Each of them is wearing an expression of either shock or alarm.

Sunghoon is the first to get over his speechlessness. “I’ll have to think about it,” he says, as predicted. He’d just placed seventh at the South Korean Figure Skating Championships. He might have more to lose than any of them.

Jungwon nods along to his words, which is also understandable. He’s only sixteen, and he’s as dedicated as any of the other trainees, but he’ll want to talk with his parents first. He’s close with his grandmother; maybe he’ll discuss it with her instead, and she’ll encourage him and he’ll join the program and succeed like everyone thinks he will.

“We don’t need your answers now,” the director says. “Read over these packets first. You’ll find everything you need to know there, including the deadline to make your decision.”

Across from Heeseung, Jongseong thumbs the first page of the packet, but he isn’t reading the words. He makes eye contact with Heeseung, but he can’t interpret his expression.

“I want to do it,” he says, snapping the packet shut.

Jongseong has been training for almost as long as Heeseung. He’s ferociously competitive, and he isn’t going to wait around for his change to debut to be given to him.

Heeseung stares at his packet. _I-LAND. Belift. Big Hit. CJ E &M. Mnet. _

“Me, too,” he says. “I’ll do it.”

  
  
  


Heeseung has felt lost for a long time.

Not in the choices he’s made. He’s meant to be an idol. Destiny. That hasn’t changed.

Three years of training, and he hasn’t debuted yet. Yeonjun promised him—he _promised_ —that it wouldn’t take him nearly five years like him. It’s been _so long_.

Yeonjun has been an idol for over a year. Heeseung hasn’t caught up yet.

He signs the papers. It doesn’t sink in that it’s now or never until he does his profile shoot for _I-LAND_. He realizes that he’s going to be a celebrity in a quiet, empty practice room on a rainy day. He’s all alone.

He keeps quiet about it, just like Yeonjun had hid the details of his debut. Jongseong and Sunghoon and Jungwon and the new trainee, Jaeyun, nod to him in the hallways like there’s a secret between them.

It’s now or never. It’s going to be now.

  
  
  


_It’s my turn now_ , Heeseung tells himself, as he stares at the ceiling in his bedroom in I-LAND.

His whole body aches. His tears dried on his cheeks hours ago. He wonders: _Is it going to be the trainees or the producers who vote me to the ground?_

He thinks: _It’s my turn now._

  
  
  


He doesn’t remember which one of the trainees said it.

It’s one of the rare times all twenty-two of them are gathered together. They’re in one of the large rec rooms, the last stragglers gathering together for a movie night. They’re talking about Sunghoon, about his skating, and the younger trainees had cheered for him until he’d sheepishly stood up and launched into a triple axel that Heeseung is genuinely impressed that he’s still able to do from the ground after months away from the rink to prepare for _I-LAND_. He sits back down between Heeseung and Geonu with a grin on his face.

He doesn’t remember which one of the trainees said it. But he does remember: “But… wasn’t it weird sometimes? Isn’t skating kind of…”

And he remembers the way Sunghoon bristled, uncharacteristic tension in his expression, grin slowly slipping away. “Isn’t skating kind of what?”

Anyone who knows Sunghoon knows that his figure skating is a sensitive topic to him. His love for the sport runs as deep as his passion for performing. It wasn’t meant to be, he tells people now.

But Heeseung thinks that Sunghoon is the type of person who could be good at anything he wanted. He would have climbed higher and higher as a skater. Now he’ll have a team to fly high with.

“Kind of… you know.”

It feels like a cup of ice water has been poured down Heeseung’s shirt when it finally clicks. _You know._ He sees it on Sunghoon’s face, too, when he realizes what the trainee is getting at. He sees how Sunghoon pales a bit, how he takes a deep breath and sets his jaw.

How he’s close enough to Heeseung that he can feel it when he begins to tremble.

And now, the oldest trainees all look at each other—Hanbin and Seon and K. Heeseung feels more like a child in this moment than he has for all of _I-LAND_. They’ve had arguments before, ones they hyungs have had to step in on, but never one like this, one where none of them know where their stances are and there’s a fine line in how it should be addressed.

To say that it feels like Heeseung’s world is ending would be dramatic, but he realizes, in that moment, that he doesn’t know who his allies are. Not really.

If he debuts—he doesn’t know who his allies will be. He doesn’t know if he’ll be all alone.

Nobody else knows what to say, so Sunghoon speaks. “No,” he says, voice calm and level even though his hands are curled into fists so tight his knuckles are white. “It was never like that.”

And that’s the end of the conversation, because none of them have the attention span to notice the way Sunghoon’s lips are pinched in a frown until he excuses himself before the movie ends.

  
  
  


Heeseung doesn’t hate himself.

He doesn’t think so, at least. He thinks that he generally does well for himself. He’s not perfect, but nobody is. He struggles sometimes, but he overcomes it. He knows that everything will work out one day, and he’ll be happier than he ever could have imagined, and grateful to himself for sticking it out for so long.

He’s everything people want him to be, he thinks. His parents are proud of him, which means a lot to him. The directors won’t tell the trainees much about the outside world, but he knows that he has fans now, and although this doesn’t seem real most of the time, when he thinks about it, he doesn’t want to disappoint them.

It makes him wonder if they’d hate him if they knew who he really is.

It makes him wonder why, if he tries so hard and can change everything else about himself to be better, why he can’t change this.

It makes him wonder _why me_ and makes him wonder why he’s sometimes so angry with himself he wants to claw out of his own skin when he isn’t angry with other people like himself.

It makes him wonder about Yeonjun.

It makes him wonder.

♗♗♗

Heeseung follows Sunghoon out of the rec room and all the way to the dorms. Sunghoon nods at him in acknowledgement, but they don’t speak until they’ve closed the door of Sunghoon’s room behind them.

Heeseung doesn’t have an actual plan for what he wants to say to Sunghoon, only that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to be alone himself. He isn’t sure that it’s important to differentiate between the two possibilities now. All that really matters is that, even though he could have good reason to be nervous about Heeseung following him, he’s completely relaxed as he sits on his bed and sighs.

Heeseung stiffly sits on the edge of Nicholas’s bed. Sunghoon is looking at him expectantly. He still doesn’t know what to say, not even sure that he wants to say anything.

He’s broken out in a nervous sweat and he hasn’t even said anything. Does he need to say anything? Of course he does. He’s probably made Sunghoon nervous, and he can’t let him think that he means worse than he does.

He thinks of how he couldn’t sleep just last night, agonizing over everything that’s wrong with him.

“About what happened earlier—,” Heeseung starts, but he feels his throat begin to tighten all over again.

_About what happened earlier, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to defend you. About what happened earlier, you shouldn’t have had to defend yourself. About what happened earlier, I need to know that at least one person thinks the same way I do. About what happened earlier, I’m scared too._

“Don’t,” Sunghoon says, not unkindly. “The sport is homophobic anyway. Nobody who knows what they’re talking about buys into any of that.”

It’s the first time anyone has addressed the elephant in the room—what they’re actually talking about. Rumors, that Sunghoon’s sport, his heart and soul, is populated mostly by gay people. A stereotype. An assumption that Sunghoon isn’t like _them,_ that instead he’d had to acclimate to competing with people that aren’t like _him._

But Sunghoon’s reaction had been so visceral, so much different from how Heeseung would have imagined he’d respond if he wasn’t like _them._

Sunghoon smiles ruefully. “He wasn’t entirely wrong, though. Not about me,” he says, and suddenly Heeseung can’t breathe.

Sunghoon isn’t like the other boys, he’s like _Heeseung._

 _I’m not alone,_ Heeseung thinks.

_You have me. You won’t ever be alone anymore._

He’s never met anyone like himself before. He’s never had anyone come out to him before. That’s what Sunghoon is doing, right? In the most vague way he can? In the safest way he can?

He thinks about all the time Sunghoon has spent hiding, and he finds the courage to reveal the secret he’s kept to himself for years.

“When I was a trainee, I was close with the members of TOMORROW X TOGETHER,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon watches him intently. He must know what Heeseung is going to say. They’ve learned more about each other in this moment than they have all the rest of the time they’ve known each other.

Heeseung looks down at his hands. He tries to fight away the shame that bubbles in his chest. “With Yeonjun-sunbaenim, I…”

With Yeonjun he what? He didn’t do anything with Yeonjun. He didn’t have anything with Yeonjun.

But Heeseung doesn’t have to explain. Sunghoon understands, just like how Heeseung had understood him, and he hugs him tightly and they breathe together, and Heeseung finally feels like he might be okay.

  
  
  


“You’re cute, Heeseung-ah,” Yeonjun told him. He squished his cheeks and winked and Heeseung’s knees were weak. “Cute, cute, cute. My baby.”

  
  
  


As they watch a movie of their own, huddled together under Sunghoon’s covers as the night enshrouds them in darkness, Heeseung asks, “How did you do it? How did you wear a mask hiding who you really were for all that time?”

They’re lying so close together that Heeseung can see the way Sunghoon’s eyes shine, and count each one of his eyelashes. “I don’t know if I was hiding who I was so much as keeping that part of me to myself,” he says. “But I’ve never thought about hiding so much as I do now.”

Sunghoon lives more confidently than Heeseung has for a long time—maybe ever. Or maybe it’s just that he has more practice, or that he’s grown up in the spotlight.

Neither of them bother to pause their movie. Heeseung chews on his bottom lip. “Aren’t you ever scared?”

Their legs are tangled together. As Heeseung speaks, Sunghoon takes his hand and squeezes. They’re closer than Heeseung had ever been with Yeonjun.

Sunghoon snorts. “All the time. Keeps me up at night. Aren’t you?”

Heeseung has nightmares about the contract they signed to compete on _I-LAND,_ the one that binds them to seven years of performing as a group if they’re chosen to debut at the end of the show.

Seven years of silence, and that’s only if they don’t sign again—only if Heeseung doesn’t fall in love with music and dedicate his life to being in the public eye, but hasn’t he already made that choice?

(If he wasn’t an idol, if he hadn’t signed on to _I-LAND,_ if he hadn’t become a trainee, would he be brave enough to live as who he really is even then?)

“I’m terrified. If the other trainees didn’t accept it, or...” _Or if I was all alone. But I’m not._ Heeseung squeezes Sunghoon’s hand back. “But less now.”

  
  
  


Heeseung thinks about kissing him.

He’s never thought about Sunghoon this way before. He’s never looked at _anyone_ quite like this before, or shared something so raw with someone that it felt like he’d given away his whole heart.

But it’s probably just the moment, so he doesn’t, even though he thinks that Sunghoon would kiss him back, if for no other reason but that they both need it.

♖♖♖

Heeseung is dying.

It’s the only way he can describe how he feels. He feels like he’s dying as he waits for his name to be called for the debut team.

He felt like he was drowning through the performances—three of them, all with intense choreography and high notes and facial expressions that Heeseung literally does in his sleep but are more difficult to recall on stage when he has to try not to think about how this is live and if he messes up now, his chance to debut is gone for the foreseeable future, potentially forever.

He feels like he’s dying, until his name is called first for the debut group, and he couldn’t care less that he’s only fifth in the overall ranking as long as he’s going to debut.

He’s going to debut. After three years of training and three months of _I-LAND,_ he’s going to debut. It’s that simple.

Ni-ki’s name is called, and then Jaeyun’s, and Jongseong and Jungwon and Sunghoon and Sunoo, and they look just as shocked and scared and relieved and happy as Heeseung, and the rest of the day passes by in a blur as Heeseung repeats their team name to himself over and over and over again. _ENHYPEN, ENHYPEN, ENHYPEN._

 _It’s my turn now,_ Heeseung thinks as he stares up at the ceiling of their dorm, heart racing, unable to fall asleep even in the early hours of the morning before their first day of work.

 _It’s my turn now,_ and Heeseung isn’t as scared as he used to be. He’s terrified, of course, but he’s not paralyzed with fear like he used to be, because he’s finally caught up with his future and he has a team that he loves by his side and fans supporting him from behind, and he finally gets to bask in the sun and enjoy it.

 _It’s my turn now,_ and suddenly the fact that Heeseung is gay is just one detail about him rather than the thing that’s going to break him.

 _It’s my turn now,_ and Heeseung is finally okay.

  
  
  


Yeonjun is there when Heeseung is chosen to debut.

So is BTS, which Heeseung doesn’t think he’ll ever process, but so is Yeonjun.

There isn’t time to greet each other before the broadcast, and there isn’t time for any of the members of TXT to congratulate them more personally later on. Heeseung misses them dearly, but he’s not that upset to not have to bear the emotional weight of seeing them today.

He sees the videos later on, though. He sees how, when Heeseung’s name was called for the debut team, Yeonjun smirked.

The last time they had spoken—he remembers it vividly—was so long ago Heeseung doesn’t know what he’ll say when the opportunity arises. But Yeonjun was there for him when his debut was decided, just like he was always supposed to be, and Heeseung tries and fails not to daydream about the future like he has so many other futures that have escaped him.

  
  
  


They receive their schedules for the rest of the year the day after they debut, and Heeseung can’t even begin to comprehend it. He’s disoriented in the same way he was when he was handed the packet of information on _I-LAND._

And so does Jongseong, apparently, because he takes one look at the calendar and says, “Just tell me what time I need to be awake every day and I’ll be there.”

Thinking of the time Jongseong signed on to _I-LAND_ and Belift without reading the terms and conditions, Heeseung almost laughs. But he doesn’t, because a very disappointed manager is looking down at them and sighing. She doesn’t even attempt to wake up Ni-ki, who had fallen asleep on Sunoo’s shoulder fifteen minutes ago.

“I suggest you designate one of you to keep track of your schedule each month,” she says. “There may be changes later on. We’ll notify you if there are. I know it seems confusing now, but you’ll acclimate to the routine soon.”

This person ends up being Jungwon, who valiantly attempts to photocopy their monthly calendars and color code them until he runs out of colors of highlighters. Jaeyun tenderly pries away the calendars before Jungwon cries, and then orders him, even more gently, to get some sleep.

He comes up with a system instead where he introduces their upcoming schedules at the end of every month so it’s less overwhelming. It’s at their November schedule meeting that Heeseung realizes that they’re filming a variety show with TXT.

Not only this, but Heeseung and Jongseong will begin preparing for their subunit stages with other Big Hit Labels artists for the New Year’s Eve Live ahead of their debut, and continuing practicing into December.

Sunghoon and Heeseung share a glance. They don’t need to say anything.

  
  
  


These days, Heeseung feels as though he goes through life sleeping on his feet.

It’s all he can do to make it to his schedules and back to the dorm to sleep at all before waking up again and heading to the company before he’s actually awake. He used to think that he was busy on _I-LAND,_ but this was nothing compared to the strain that the members are under now.

A week before he’s set to begin practicing for his unit stage for the New Year’s Eve Live concert, Taehyun finds him in the company lounge. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other properly since the debut team had been chosen, and Heeseung scrambles to his feet to greet him.

It’s been too long, and Heeseung misses his friend so much it hurts, and he and Taehyun laugh and smile as they catch up. Truthfully, there’s too much for them to put into words but it feels good to be with his friend again.

There’s never been any tension between them, but for a while—and even now, but to a far lesser extent—they were in different places in their lives. But his friendship is invaluable to Heeseung now.

“Hyung,” Taehyun says, when silence falls between them. He loops his arm with Heeseung’s, and it’s easy. Comfortable. “If you have a minute, I think there’s something we should talk about.”

Heeseung knew that this moment was coming. Even though his pulse jumps with anxiety, he nods and says, “I think so, too.”

♕♕♕

On the morning of filming for TXT & EN- PLAYGROUND, Heeseung wakes up with Sunghoon, clinging to his back, cuddling him.

He doesn’t sleep with the other members often, but if he does, it’s usually because Ni-ki needs someone to sleep with besides Sunoo. But he doesn’t recognize the weight of the member hugging him unless he blearily blinks the sleep away from his eyes and turns to look at him.

Sunghoon’s eyes are shut, but they flutter open when Heeseung stirs. They haven’t been this close since that one night at the training camp. Last night, Heeseung had fallen asleep sick with anxiety, but he feels serene with Sunghoon beside him now.

“Good morning,” Sunghoon says, and he stifles a yawn against Heeseung’s shoulder. “I told Jungwonie that I’d wake you.”

Heeseung hums. He lets his eyelids droop shut again. If they were late, Jungwon himself would be waking him up, but he isn’t, which means that it feels like Heeseung has all the time in the world with Sunghoon.

Even though Heeseung hasn’t given him a proper response yet, Sunghoon continues, “I know you were nervous last night, but it’s going to be okay. It won’t be as bad as you think, and then it’ll be over, and you’ll be able to decide how to move on from there.”

Heeseung wonders how much of a choice he really has—it’s public information now that he’d trained with Yeonjun and his members, and regardless of however complex Heeseung’s feelings may be, he’s expected to be close with Yeonjun.

Close, but maybe not as close as Heeseung wishes they were.

“I wanted to be here for you,” Sunghoon says, “to remind you that you have me. I wanted you to remember that first thing this morning.”

Heeseung has known Sunghoon for more than two years, but it still catches him off guard when he’s this sweet to him. “Thank you,” he says, and he means it sincerely, even though his voice is thick with sleep, which makes Sunghoon smile.

It’s still so early that Heeseung isn’t quite thinking in full sentences yet, but it’s the early morning atmosphere that prompts vulnerability from him. Something in his chest squeezes, so unlike the way it swells when he thinks of how proud he is to be Sunghoon’s friend. “I miss him,” he admits.

Sunghoon is quiet for a moment, and Heeseung almost thinks that he might not have heard him. “I know,” he says eventually. His voice is deep and soothing and Heeseung closes his eyes as he listens to him. “But you’re going to see him today. And then you won’t have to miss him anymore.”

Sunghoon makes it sound so simple. Heeseung presses his nose against Sunghoon’s collarbone and inhales deeply.

He doesn’t get to respond. Instead, he dozes off against Sunghoon’s chest until Jungwon finds them to wake them up for real.

  
  
  


Heeseung can’t help the way he smiles when he sees Yeonjun.

As much as he’s built this encounter up in his head, it’s not as bad as he’d thought it would be, true to Sunghoon’s words. It’s the complete opposite—it’s _good._

Heeseung doesn't have time to talk to Yeonjun much before they start filming, but it’s not like any of the worst-case scenarios he’d agonized over. Yeonjun doesn’t shun him, even though it’s been too long since they’ve talked. It isn’t awkward to speak to him again—it’s surprisingly easy, and it feels like they’re just picking up where they’d left off.

But things are different now. Heeseung is still weeks away from debut, but Yeonjun has been an idol for a year and a half. Anyone can see that Yeonjun glows now. He radiates confidence like never before, which is ironic to Heeseung, who had thought of him as the epitome of confidence in their trainee days.

He looks good. He’s grown up. He’s not just Heeseung’s hyung anymore, but that’s okay. Heeseung isn’t just his dongsaeng anymore, either.

The more Heeseung thinks about it, the more he realizes that he’s grown up, too. He isn’t the same kid who had clung to Yeonjun when he didn’t know how to make friends. He still has doubts and fears about his future, but they’re different now.

He’s changed in other ways, too. Ways that make it feel natural when he looks at Yeonjun and lets himself admire him. Ways that make it feel natural that they still have the chemistry they had when they were younger. Ways that make it easier to be around Yeonjun, that highlight how much Heeseung had struggled without even realizing it when he was younger.

It doesn’t feel like the things Heeseung had dealt with years ago are the end of the world anymore, even if, in some ways, they still plague him.

So when Heeseung smiles at Yeonjun it’s genuine, and he must see something in Heeseung that’s changed, because they fall into the same routine as before, but different. Better. Heeseung feels a rush of pride whenever he looks at Yeonjun, no longer tinged with the jealousy and doubt that had tainted his trainee days. This is who he really is—the version of himself unhindered without fear.

It’s different, and better, when Heeseung looks at Yeonjun and Yeonjun looks at him and he lets himself feel it stirring within him, and he doesn’t shy away.

Yeonjun is attractive, and Heeseung wants to be with him like they always should have been, like they always could have been.

Heeseung looks at Yeonjun, and Yeonjun smiles at him, and Heeseung lets himself love him.

  
  
  


Heeseung never thought that it could make him so happy to see someone else smile. But the impact that Yeonjun has on him is instantaneous and overwhelming and makes him feel like one of the luckiest people alive.

Every time Yeonjun touches him, Heeseung feels like he’s on fire.

It’s casual, at first, just like how they used to be, just like how Yeonjun interacts with Heeseung’s younger members. It fills him with fondness that Yeonjun takes to them so quickly—the boys that Heeseung has come to love so much and become so protective over in the past few months. It takes enough stress off of him that he starts to enjoy filming, and it feels less like filming with their seniors and more like filming with friends.

It feels like love, when Yeonjun throws his arms around Heeseung in pure joy. It feels like love, when Heeseung compliments him and he’s flustered like he never has been around him. It feels like love, when Heeseung rests a hand on Yeonjun’s knee and he doesn’t pull away, he pulls Heeseung closer.

It feels like love, when Yeonjun pats his back and he says, “Our reliable Yeonjun-hyung,” thoughtlessly, because it’s true. It feels like love when their members are loud around them, happy with each other, and Heeseung and Yeonjun are wrapped up in each other in their own world, how it’s always been meant to be.

 _It’s our turn now,_ Heeseung thinks, and squeezes Yeonjun’s hand.

  
  
  


But it could just be in Heeseung’s head, so he doesn’t know if he should approach Yeonjun after filming or not—until Yeonjun corners him in one of the dressing rooms.

They’d filmed into the night, and all of them are exhausted, but Yeonjun’s eyes are still bright when he spots Heeseung. “Hey,” he says softly. “Do you have some time before you have to go?”

Heeseung doesn’t actually know, but he nods, and Yeonjun pulls up a chair next to him. They sit in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. It should probably be uncomfortable, but it isn’t. They’re so close that Heeseung longs to touch him.

“I missed you,” Heeseung says after gathering his courage. Yeonjun’s expression softens. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

Yeonjun shakes his head. “You’ve been working hard for your debut.” He licks his lips. “I’m really proud of you. I missed you, too, though.”

So much of Heeseung’s trainee years was characterized by training with Yoenjun and his members. Heeseung has wondered countless times before if it would be best to leave the past in the past, but he doesn’t want that. Not now, especially.

“That’s all I wanted when I was a trainee,” Heeseung says, and laughs. Yeonjun looks surprised, and Heeseung sheepishly adds, “To make you proud. I thought that would mean that I was doing a good job.”

It’s not the only reason why, but Heeseung thinks that Yeonjun probably knows this by now.

Yeonjun frowns like he’s thinking deeply. He turns in his seat so that he’s closer to Heeseung, their knees touching. “I’ve always been proud of you,” he says. “I wish…” He trails off and shakes his head. “I think it’s best to focus on the future for now.”

He looks up at Heeseung expectantly. This is his chance, and Yeonjun has given him an opportunity to take it.

It’s been so long that Heeseung has been pining after him. He hasn’t misread the signals though, has he? Would Yeonjun be upset with him if he had?

He’s looking at Heeseung so openly, so honestly, so fondly, that Heeseung says, breathlessly, without hesitating any longer, “What do you have in mind?”

Yeonjun smiles, and then leans in, and Heeseung’s heart beats rapidly. Yeonjun glances down at his lips. _He’s going to kiss me,_ Heeseung thinks, and he closes his eyes—and Yeonjun’s lips brush across his cheek. One of his hands comes to rest on Heeseung’s thigh.

“If you’ll have me,” he whispers against Heeseung’s skin, “I’d like to make up for lost time. How does that sound?”

“I would love that, hyung,” Heeseung whispers back, and wraps his arms around Yeonjun in a proper hug as he peppers kisses across his forehead and cheeks and the tip of his nose.

♔♔♔

Heeseung has never seen Sunghoon more satisfied than he does when he finally gets Heeseung alone to talk about filming.

“This ramyeon was supposed to be for Jaeyun. He’s a much better midnight snack partner,” Heeseung complains. “He doesn’t bother me about my love life.”

“Aha,” Sunghoon says, and takes a victorious bite of his ramyeon. “So there _is_ a love life to discuss.”

“I never said that,” Heeseung says, protesting quietly so that he doesn’t wake up the other members, who should be asleep by now. “You’ve already heard most of it anyway. And saw most of it.”

“Well, yeah. It would’ve been hard _not_ to see the tension between you and Yeonjun,” Sunghoon says. “I was expecting some, but that was just…” Heeseung opens his mouth to reply, but Sunghoon adds, “And when you disappeared with him after we finished filming! You could’ve tried to be a little less obvious.”

“Nobody but you even noticed that I was gone,” Heeseung points out. He scoops out the last few noodles from his bowl. “You’re more excited about this than I am.”

“That’s a lie, but I’ll accept it because it means that something good happened between you two when you were alone, and you’ve finally received justice for your years of pining after him,” Sunghoon says. He sets down his chopsticks. “You did, right? I’d feel bad if I was saying all of this only for you to tell me that it didn’t go well.”

Thinking back on the time he had spent with Yeonjun, Heeseung can’t help but smile. There’s still more he and Yeonjun have to work out, but he feels significantly better about where they are now. And he knows for sure now that Yeonjun wants him back just as badly as Heeseung wants him, which feels like a dream.

A good dream, for the first time in a long time.

“It went well,” Heeseung says. “We’re… we’re good now, I think.”

Sunghoon grins. Heeseung feels a little embarrassed, in the best of ways, that Sunghoon is so happy for him. The thought that he could actually work things out with Yeonjun, starting by coming to terms with himself and his own identity, had been such a pipe dream for so long that Heeseung had tried to keep his longing for Yeonjun to himself. Clearly, he hadn’t done as good of a job as he’d thought, but he doesn’t mind now.

“You and Soobin-hyung, though,” Heeseung says. “Is there anything to tell there, or are you just platonically obsessed with each other? Because that’s okay too, but I wasn’t getting that impression.”

“Unlike you, I’m not going to wait four years to tell someone I have feelings for them,” Sunghoon says indignantly. He digs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. He shows Heeseung a contact labeled “Soobinie-hyung <3”. “He added his number for me. He said that he understands that we’re busy, but whenever we get a chance we can go out on a date.”

“So that’s why you asked Jungwon about our schedules early,” Heeseung teases. “I thought you were just trying to be responsible.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, but still looks fond. Heeseung appreciates that they can be together like this. Their friendship had taken a lot of work to get to this point, and they’ve grown even more individually along the way, but he thinks that it’s a hopeful indicator of where they’re headed in the future.

They finish their ramyeon in comfortable silence, until Sunghoon gets up to rinse his bowl out. “I’m excited for you,” Heeseung says. “You know that, right? Soobin is really great. You’ll be good together.”

Sunghoon squeezes Heeseung’s shoulder as he walks by. “I know. I’m excited for you, too, hyung. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

  
  
  


The grass is soft and the night is cool as Heeseung and Yeonjun face their future together.

A gentle breeze raises goosebumps on Heeseung’s arms, but he’s not cold. He’s lying halfway on Yeonjun’s chest with his head turned against the crook of his neck so he can see the stars. His eyes are dry, and his heart is full, and the days like this he gets to spend with Yeonjun are unlimited.

“I love you,” Heeseung whispers, for Yeonjun alone to hear.

Yeonjun kisses the top of his head, and he has nothing to be afraid of anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hopefulgcf) for copious amounts of btenhatxt content!!


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